The Road to Light (The Path of Zaan Book 1)

by C. K. Rieke

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WALKING down the road back home to Oscar, thoughts ran through his mind of vast mountain ranges, high-reaching castles, and damsels in distress.

  He decided to stop by Milter’s Sundries on the way, it would be a good place to have a drink, and let thoughts run through his mind. Approaching the storefront; he saw the eight tables outside, letting shadows dance along their wooden tops. A few people who lived in town sat at the tables—Zaan knew them of course. He gave a few casual smiles and waves as he approached the Milter’s service window.

  A young red-haired girl answered at the window, and after handing over a solid and a half, he had a pint of ale in one hand and an aspir stick in the other. He turned around . . . but before he could react he ran into a figure behind him, knocking half of the cool liquid from the glass.

  “Oh shit, you okay, didn’t hurt ya, did I?” said a man in a hearty baritone voice.

  Zaan was too shocked by the sheer size of the man to brush off the lost ale. Before him stood a man a little less than six feet tall, and seemed about that wide at the shoulders.

  “I’m sorry, here, let me get you another.” The bulky man looked to the young girl behind the window stand. “Let’s have another for the young man, well, make it two.”

  Zaan nodded at the girl, and looked at the man. “Thanks.”

  “What’s that in your hand there?” the man asked.

  “Oh this, it’s an aspir stick; you chew on it. Helps with headaches.”

  “You get headaches?”

  “Not really,” Zaan replied, “but it helps take any edge off.”

  “I’ll take one of them aspir sticks too, please,” the man asked the girl at the counter. She smiled and gave him one. He put it in the corner of his mouth and gave an approving nod.

  “My name is Wollen, pleasure to meet you,” he said, holding out a large, leathery hand.

  “Zaan Talabard, nice to meet you.” He reached out and shook the man’s hand.

  “Please come join us, if you’re not in too big of a rush.”

  Zaan looked over at the table, and there was a woman there, cross-legged and her back straight. She was actually quite pretty, and tall. Why not? Zaan figured.

  Wollen smiled and nodded, then grabbed the drinks and they sat at the table with the woman.

  “May I introduce you to my partner, Xersha? Xersha this is Zaan Tala—”

  “Talabard. Nice to meet you, Xersha. Have you been to Fur-lol before?”

  “Nice to meet you, young man.” Her voice was much lower than he expected. “I have been here, yes, actually many times. It is a nice town.” Xersha sat with perfect posture, arms at her sides.

  “So you two travel together, Wollen tells me, as partners?” Zaan took a big gulp of ale. “Partners in what business? If you don’t mind my asking?”

  “No, not at all, Zaan. We are treasure hunters,” Wollen said with a sparkle in his eyes.

  Now that Zaan was relaxed with an aspir stick in between his teeth, he got to really see the two treasure hunters he was sitting with. Wollen was big, but not as big as he remembered upon his first impression. He had broad, strong shoulders and auburn eyes. He had a short unkempt brown beard, bushy red eyebrows, and a strong nose with big nostrils. His hair was lively and shot in all directions. His presence was intimidating, yes, but he was quite friendly, like a gentle giant.

  Xersha was indeed beautiful, yet held a stern aura. She had an angled jaw line, stern lips, and narrow eyes that seemed to stare, as if constantly examining. She must have been from another part of the world, as Zaan had never seen anyone like her before. Her hair was slicked back and shining black in the sunlight. She seemed to have too many teeth as she talked; they were smaller than normal teeth and had a reddish tint. She had a few piercings here and there, and he caught a glimpse of a red tattoo creeping up the right side of her neck.

  “Treasure hunters? That’s amazing. I can honestly say I’ve never heard anyone declare themselves to be treasure hunters. Have you ever found any?” Zaan asked. He felt Xersha’s eyes burn into him.

  “What? Treasure?” Wollen let out a loud laugh. “Of course we’ve found some! We’re the best on this side of the Himlas! I’m surprised you haven’t heard of us,” Wollen said.

  “He seems to be just a boy who hasn’t been anywhere,” Xersha said, taking her eyes away from Zaan and looking at Wollen. Her lip curled up in a smirk.

  “You’ve assumed right. I haven’t been anywhere.” He took a sip of cool ale. “But I’m ready to travel out into the world . . . I just need to figure out a few things.”

  “Ay, the road can be nice,” Wollen said. “But it is also nice to be home. This is a nice town.”

  “Where are you heading, then?” Zaan asked.

  Wollen looked at Xersha. “West,” she said.

  “What’s out west?”

  “Treasure, of course. We are going to the farthest west,” she said, her face expressionless.

  Zaan didn’t understand, and his face didn’t hide it. “You mean on the other side of the Great Sea? At the End of the World? You can’t cross that, the Aterax happens all the time on those waters.”

  “We may cross, we may not, but we’re not afraid to try,” Wollen said, a smile lining his face.

  There was an awesome silence there. Zaan felt it, and he was excited, even if they were just playing with him.

  “There are places your parents and teachers won’t tell you about. Dark places, dangerous places full of monsters,” Xersha said, trying to scare Zaan, but it only intrigued him further.

  “Are you going to a place like that, then?” Zaan asked. He was suddenly aware that some of the nearby tables were listening to their conversion.

  “We always do,” Wollen said. “I guess you could say we are kinda addicted to it.” He let out a hefty laugh. All the people around them went quiet, staring at the huge man in full, thick leather clothing, a large broadsword lying against the chair next to him. Zaan now noticed that Xersha had an enormous long bow and short sword at her side.

  Wollen finished the second half of his ale in one gulp. “I’m going to have another. You two want anything?”

  “Yes, a brandy,” Xersha said. She was staring at Zaan again, observing and studying him.

  “I’m okay, thanks. I must be on my way, and it was nice to meet you two. Maybe we will cross paths again one day.” he said.

  “Yes, of course,” Xersha said.

  “That we may, young Zaan. What roads do you plan to travel in Essill?” Wollen asked.

  “If I head for Auracity, probably the New Omne Road. Who knows after that?”

  “Well, good travels. That’s a good road for walking, if you’re without a steed. Not much traffic, not that many folks coming to Fur-lol, as it’s such a tiny town,” Wollen said.

  “Yes, well, again, nice to meet you. Safe travels,” Zaan said.

  As he walked away he heard the woman with the thin lips whisper something into the gentle giant’s ear.

  “Hmmm,” was all Zaan heard from Wollen.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  AFTER returning home, Zaan was exhausted. It was still not even supper time, but he felt drained from the thoughts of wanderlust running through his mind.

  He opened his front door, picked Oscar up, carried him up the stairs, and laid him at the foot of his bed, Oscar lay calmly and was quickly asleep. This put Zaan’s heart at ease. He reached down and petted his dog along the shoulder blade, and Oscar slowly lifted his head, smiled, and panted.

  As Zaan scratched under the dog’s muzzle he muttered to himself, “Treasure hunters.” He let out a single burst of laughter. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking.

  Were they serious about such places? And what about the monsters Xersha spoke of? Could things like monsters really be out there?

  What if they were serious, though? They seemed like serious people. All of a sudden he felt a fire build in his chest. He s
tood with a new energy about the world. A thirst swelled up inside him to experience the vast country.

  ***

  The following morning, sunlight slipped through the curtains illuminating the dust particles floating in the air. Zaan’s right eye was squished into his pillow, and with his left eye open he watched this dance of light in the room. It was peaceful, so he lay there a few moments more.

  Walking outside into fresh air, he let Oscar relieve himself. Looking up he saw the overcast sky. It was Monday, and Zaan needed to decide if he was going to work the fields or make a solid plan for his move.

  On a whim, he walked with Oscar over to Drake’s Inn, which was next to Milter’s Sundries, just to see if they would run into the adventurers from yesterday. Maybe he could get more information from the travelers, or even a full story.

  Oscar stopped by a couple of his favorite spots: the same horse troughs he visited every time, to sniff endlessly and squeeze something out. They arrived at Drake’s Inn, the tallest building in town at a full three stories. It was made of stone, having been rebuilt after a fire that ran rampant years ago, often blamed on the clogged flue of the giant, man-sized fireplace in the main lobby. He would have tied Oscar up to the horse trough if he thought the dog would move, but he just stood in place as Zaan stepped inside.

  He approached Thil, the owner of the inn, who sat behind the front desk.

  “Hey there, young man, what can I do for you?” Thil asked. “You looking for work?”

  “Not today. I was actually going to check in on some guests that were staying here.”

  “Oh?” Thil asked.

  “Yes, a man built like a house, Wollen, and an exotic-looking woman with him,” Zaan said.

  “Oh yes, they were here. Hard to miss, but they left this morning,” Thil responded.

  Zaan’s expression dampened. “Okay, thanks.” He turned to walk away, and Thil spoke.

  “But they said if anyone came looking for them to give them something. A strange request surely, but I keep my word as proprietor of Drake’s Inn. Here, it’s right . . . Ah! Here it is.” He held out a rolled-up parchment. “I wouldn’t have imagined I would be giving this to you. I figured they meant some knight or assassin would come and collect it.” He chuckled loudly. “I dub you part of the Fur-lol assassin’s guild, Zaan!” He handed it to Zaan. They both laughed.

  Oscar was right where Zaan had left him, no surprise. They walked over to the courtyard and, despite dingy pools of water and wild vines crawling all over the place, found a good spot to sit down. He pulled out the scroll and broke the seal, unconsciously licking his lips while unrolling the parchment.

  His eyes went from wide to glazed over. The parchment read “Good luck on the road, Zaan, but tread carefully. It’s not always easy. The world can be forgiving, but it can and does take its share. Maybe our paths will cross.” He smiled, then rolled it up and put it in his bag.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE curiosity of the open world filled Zaan’s mind almost every moment of the day now. He loved his town, but it was as if there were strings pulling him away. He knocked once on the old oak door and heard a familiar voice call from the other side.

  “Who is it?” he asked.

  “It’s Zaan.”

  “Oh yes, come in, come in,” the old man beckoned.

  The old man was Cartwright Pestock, one of Zaan’s instructors from school. He taught the sciences, all of them, and was something of the master of intellect there. He had a full white beard, was completely bald, and had gold-rimmed glasses that were as thick as a finger. The more recent years had not been kind to him, but he had many years behind him. Grandpa Pest was his nickname in town. He was a slow mover and required help in menial tasks often. Zaan thought the name Grandpa Pest was rude, but then again the man liked Zaan and not everyone else in town was so lucky.

  “What can I do for you, Zaan?” he asked slowly.

  “I have some questions, about the world . . . and you were the first person I thought may have some answers.”

  “Oh, well I may have some. Tell you what, I have a proposal for you,” Cartwright said. “You scratch my back, and I scratch yours.”

  “I know too well to agree to anything outright from you, Professor. What do you propose, then?”

  “Patch my roof is all. I’m getting wrinkles from water falling on my head all night from these storms. Don’t worry, though. I will pay you on top of it. Do you agree to my terms? Two solids, two shims, and some answers, although I can’t guarantee I know them. Deal?” Cartwright said.

  Grandpa Pest indeed, that roofing job would be a full day’s work. “Three solids total, and some answers,” Zaan bargained.

  “Okay, deal. The supplies are out back for fixing the thatching. I bet you thought you were going to get your question in first. A dry house supersedes fulfilled curiosity, I’m afraid. Plus I smell rain,” Cartwright said, seeming a little quicker now. Zaan knew he’d been outsmarted by the old man, but he thought a little hard work would distract his mind.

  It took Zaan only five hours to complete the patch job—fewer than he’d thought. They both sat around Cartwright’s fireplace as he warmed and poured cider spiked with some cheap brandy. The aroma made Zaan’s mouth water—it had a hint of cinnamon and was quite delicious.

  “Well done with the roof. I do certainly appreciate a dry home. Now what questions have you got, Son?” Cartwright asked.

  “This may sound weird, but there are a couple of parts to the question. I met a couple of travelers yesterday, and I can’t stop thinking about the conversation we had. They told me there are things out west, past the territory we know, and that . . . you may think this is unscholarly of me but . . . there are monsters out there. Is this even possible? I mean, other than in stories?” After Zaan asked this, the room went silent.

  Cartwright was slow to respond. “So, you are referring to the mythical continent on the other side of the Great Sea. Let’s get to that one first.” He ran his slender fingers down his gray beard. “It’s reasonable to think so. You learned in school of the four continents in our world. The Arr, to the east, on the other side of the Elden Sea. The Worforgon, to the south, across the Sonter Sea. We have Sarcasus to the north, a mighty cold place. And we have Essill, where we live.” He took a sip of the warm cider. “You know how difficult and dangerous it is to travel across any sea.”

  “Because of the Aterax,” Zaan added.

  “Yes, it is most common upon the open waters, causing massive tidal waves and vicious lightning storms suddenly. But . . . you were taught that we believe our people came from overseas, possibly from the Arr to escape the harsh deserts over there. It’s not crazy to think that if people can cross that sea, then they can cross the Great Sea.”

  “But we don’t know of any who have made it there, or from there. I just can’t get past that. If no one has ever come from there, wouldn’t that mean it most likely doesn’t exist?” Zaan asked.

  “The logical answer is yes, there is probably nothing out there. But the curious part of us wants to think there is something out there, doesn’t it? It possibly took centuries for all of our continents to become known to us. Might it take another century to discover something out there? Who knows?” He gave a stern look to Zaan. “Not thinking of going over there, no?”

  “No, I just feel this sense of”—he began to rub his knuckles—“urgency, for lack of a better term, to get out there. Somewhere, like I’m being called into the world. It’s hard to explain. I’m not charting course for open waters . . . yet.”

  “So, shall we head to your next question about, what did you say, monsters?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “I know it’s a stupid question, but is there any evidence in history of these things?”

  “It’s not a stupid question, but it’ll be another difficult answer. You know the tale of the Forgotten Names of the Gods?”

  “Yes, mostly. About how the Great Essillean War
ended the Olden Age, and we lost all the records or names of the gods that used to exist,” Zaan said.

  “Precisely, but what is lesser known is that there was a king who, according to legend, lived for five hundred years. His name was King Dür, and he resided over the lost Kingdom of Celendrial to the south of here. He was overthrown in the Battle of Dürmant by King Asil to end the Great Essillean Wars.”

  “Everyone knows of King Asil, the Great King.”

  “The interesting thing is, there is actually evidence that King Dür lived those five hundred years. Handwritten letters from the king hundreds of years apart,” said Cartwright.

  “Really, I never heard that.”

  “It’s one of those secrets the kings keep. But what does that mean? If anything it signifies that there are impossible things that may have been possible.” Cartwright took a deep breath, and his eyes looked into Zaan’s and shimmered. “Of course, that is one of the wonders of life: mystery. Without it, there would be no more search for knowledge, and the mind would become something of a prune over time, I believe. As for your monsters, yes, there are many monsters in this world. They look like you and me, though, and are masters of camouflage. There is the possibility that real monsters exist or existed, but who am I to give such knowledge? I have seen no troll, no ogre, nor a pixie. I am not one to tell you yes or no on such matters. But . . .” He took a long breath. “If there is one thing I am certain of and that my studies have shown me, it is that the Forgotten Names of the Gods created such wonders of light and beauty in this world that absolutely there is the possibility of true, horrific evil embodied in vessels of destruction.” Cartwright took a drink of cider. “It is so nice to be dry in my house. Indeed, nice it is.”

  The rest of the evening, they chatted about old school matters, happenings of past students and faculty, but there was no more talk of monsters. Zaan added three hard-earned solids to his wallet.